So, as I said in Part 1, I was unceremoniously booted out of Australia in February 1993, and returned to a cold and grey Waterford. To say I was not happy to be back would be an understatement. It amazes me to think back on it now, because these days I would be quite content to move back if the need arose. I don’t recognise that guy who thought his life was over just because he was back at home after a year in far flung locations. But of course, when you’re young you think you know everything.
In any case, things got better before too long. Within a few short months the weather started warming up and I started playing guitar again, having not touched it for most of the time I’d been in Australia. I got a few gigs in my old stomping grounds and this, along with the 25 or so quid a week from the unemployment benefit kept me going. One Saturday afternoon in or around April, I was walking up George’s St, having had a quiet pint in my local, T & H Doolan’s (that pub warrants an entire post of its own, which shall be forthcoming in due course) and I bumped into the man in the picture walking towards the pub, guitar case in hand. That in itself was not an unusual sight in Waterford in those days. Almost everyone knew him, or at least knew who he was. I’d had only a passing acquaintance with him up to that point, but he recognised me and said “I’m starting up a session in T & H’s, come on and join me”. I said “O.K. – when?”, thinking he was talking about a session he was starting at some future date. “Now!” he replied, and took off down the street. I stood there scratching my head – I had no guitar with me, and who starts a session at 3 in the afternoon anyway? Well apparently, The Bok does!
That’s what everyone knew him as, The Bok. His name was actually Liam Maher, but to everyone, he was simply The Bok and some folks would even address him with that full title. Instead of saying “Would you like a drink, Bok?” they’d say “Would you like a drink, The Bok?”, to which he’d invariably answer “An’ I would!”
Apparently Liam had learned violin for a while in primary school, and the other kids, when they’d see him with his violin case would tease him by calling him “Bach” , as in Johann Sebastian Bach. “Howya Bach?” , ” Here comes Bach!” etc. It was good-natured though, everyone liked him. Over the years, the thick South Kilkenny accent morphed “Bach” into Bok and the definite article was added at some point, for reasons that are lost in the mists of time. And so that was it, he remained The Bok until his dying day.
Anyway, as I stood there watching The Bok enter the pub I had just come from, I thought to myself, this sounds like it’ll be good craic, pity I’ve no guitar with me. Then it hit me – John Palmer’s Music Centre was directly opposite the pub (and still is). I knew John fairly well, having spent a fair few shekels in his shop over the years. So I went in and asked him if I could borrow a guitar for a couple of hours. Just something cheap but functional, and I was only taking it 5 metres across the street. So he gave me a nice Suzuki and I went and joined in what was to become the first of many sessions and gigs with The Bok. I spent most of the rest of 1993 and the early part of 94 in that pub before returning to Australia, which I will get to later. There was something on every night, whether it was a traditional session, or a gig by either The Bok, myself, (sometimes both of us) or one of several other regular players, and it was a terrific pub. Ask anyone over 45 in Waterford about T & H Doolan’s (or as it was known locally “Tee & Haitches” – never “Doolan’s”) in the late 80’s and early 90’s, and they’ll tell you. It was hopping every night.
Sadly it has been closed for about 7 or 8 years now, like many others it fell victim to the banks in the wake of the Global Financial Crisis. Apparently it was bought, and was going to reopen, but the new owners did some sort of alterations inside, and it all got shut down because it’s a protected building and they did something they weren’t allowed to. I’m not sure what they did exactly, I heard the bar counter itself is protected and cannot be moved, and also, part of one of the walls inside is actually a section of the original Viking city walls, dating back a thousand years or so. It has been closed up ever since, and is probably slowly decaying on the inside, which is a real shame.
Even more sad is the fact that The Bok is no longer with us. We became very good friends over the course of that year, but we lost touch after I went away again. No email or Facebook back then, phone calls were by landline only and you’d need a bank loan to call home for more than three minutes, and I was never much for writing letters, just ask my Mum! I did manage to catch up with him once on a return trip, but that was about 15 years ago. He passed away a few years back, from leukaemia, the same thing that took my Dad.
The Bok was a character and a superbly entertaining performer, the likes of which will not be seen again. He’s still very much missed by many people of a certain age in Waterford and beyond.
R.I.P. The Bok. I’ll see you in the next cartoon.
GM
Ger Mythen 
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